ths,
from which issued steam and smoke. Poisonous vapour poured out of
the rocks in white and brownish clouds that waved to and fro, slowly
rising, until a breeze caught and carried them away. The sight alone
would suffice to inspire terror, without the oppressive smoke and the
uncanny noise far down in the depths. Dull and regular, it sounded like
the piston of an engine or a great drum, heard through the noises of a
factory. Presently there was silence, and then, without any warning,
came a tearing crack, the thunder as of 100 heavy guns, a metallic
din, and a cloud of smoke rose; and while we forced ourselves to
stay and watch, the inferno below thundered a roaring echo, the walls
shook, and a thousand dark specks flew up like a swarm of frightened
birds. They were lava blocks, and they fell back from the height of the
crater, rattling on the rocks, or were swallowed up by the invisible
gorge. Then a thick cloud surrounded everything, and we realized
that our post at the mouth of the crater, on an overhanging ridge,
was dangerous; indeed, a part of the edge, not far off, broke down
and was lost in the depths. Another and another explosion followed;
but when we turned, we overlooked a peaceful landscape, green forests,
palms bending over the bright blue water, and far off the islands of
Erromanga, Futuna and Aniwa.

A visit to the volcano at night was a unique experience. Across the
desert the darkness glided, and as we climbed upward, we felt and
heard the metallic explosions through the flanks of the mountain, and
the cloud over the crater shone in dull red. Cautiously we approached
the edge, just near enough to look down. The bottom of the crater
seemed lifted, the walls were almost invisible, and the uncertain
glare played lightly over some theatrical-looking rocks. We could see
three orifices; steam poured out of one, in the other the liquid lava
boiled and bubbled, of the third there was nothing to be seen but
a glow; but underneath this some force was at work. Did we hear or
feel it? We were not sure; sometimes it sounded like shrill cries of
despair, sometimes all was still, and the rocks seemed to shake. Then
suddenly it boiled up, hissing as if a thousand steam-pipes had burst,
something unspeakable seemed preparing, yet nothing happened. Some
lava lumps were thrown out, to fall back or stick to the rocks, where
they slowly died out. All at once a sheaf of fire shot up, tall and
glowing, an explosion of inc